The ballroom empty

I had finished a tuning in a different building and left it. The ballroom was a hotel I was not working, chairs stacked, no banner, the floor scuffed from someone else event. I stood in it anyway because I like a big empty room before I go upstairs and get filthy. Navy cardigan, cream shell, trousers, grey waves on my shoulders. I was dressed. I was not on a clock. Harlan is forty-seven. He is not a client. He did not hire my ear. He hired nothing. He had a room in the same hotel, and I had my own key to my own room if I wanted to sleep alone after. I do not have a husband waiting on either floor.

I looked at the stacked chairs until the quiet felt like mine, then I took the elevator. His door, my knock, his age said again because I like numbers more than charm. Forty-seven. He was polite in a way that did not try to rename the night. I told him I wanted his cock in my mouth for a long time, and then I wanted him to fuck my cunt, and then I wanted him to cum in my mouth. Not on the sheets. Not a romance. He said yes like a man who had cleared his evening and not his whole life.

I sucked him in the chair by the window first. I am good at this and I do not rush it. I held his cock at the base and worked the head with my tongue, then took him deeper, slow, wet, my cardigan still on because I like to be a little formal while my mouth is not. He kept a hand on the arm of the chair and not on my neck. I set that rule with a look and he obeyed it. Saliva slicked my chin. I pulled off to say he tasted good, gentle voice, filthy fact, and then I went back down until his thighs jumped.

I stood, stepped out of the trousers, and bent over the bed. He fucked my cunt from behind, cock thick, pace steady, his hands on my hips. I reached under and rubbed my clit and came with my mouth open against the duvet, a long rolling orgasm, my cunt squeezing him. I told him not to cum there. I turned, knelt, and took his cock back in my mouth, tasting my own cunt on him, and I sucked until he came on my tongue. I swallowed. I stayed on my knees a moment because I like the after, the quiet, the salt. Then I washed my face, buttoned the cardigan, and went to my own room. I tuned nothing. I slept. In the morning the ballroom was still empty and none of it had been a job.